


Carry on My Wayward Saints

by ScarlettSiren



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), SuperSaints - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The McManus brothers are taking down a ring of human traffickers when Connor’s brilliant debacle of a plan is interrupted by the Winchesters. Apparently the human traffickers they are looking to bust are actually vampires, and they are less in the sex trade than they are in the blood business. When their bullets are fairly useless, they are glad the Winchesters are around to show them the ropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry on My Wayward Saints

Connor McManus was a man with a plan. He and his brother, Murphy, had been tracking disappearances for weeks. The victims were always taken at night, they were usually young; under the age of thirty...and often they disappeared in pairs; a husband and wife, two sisters, a young mother and son. But in those cases, one of them almost always showed up as a dead body with their throat ripped open. Based on the ages of those seemingly taken alive, they surmised it had to be human traffickers. And after tracking down the warehouse where all the breadcrumbs led, they figured it had to be their base of operations. So, Connor concocted a plan.

It was supposed to go like this: 

Murphy would pick up a girl at the local bar...he was always good at that sort of thing. Something about his rugged charm and devil-may-care attitude made the ladies swoon...and they had it on a tip that most of the victims had been snagged after leaving this particular hole in the wall. Connor would be nearby and keep an eye out until his brother stumbled out into the night, inviting her back to his motel. But his brother wouldn’t actually be drunk... he wanted to be sharp for phase two of the plan.

Phase two was waiting a set amount of time before following them out. They would head out to the highway, where the two bodies had been found, and Connor would take a side road out of town. Murphy would pull over where the two roads intersected on the pretense of fooling around in the car, faking car trouble…whatever worked, and the traffickers would undoubtedly take the bait and try to snag the girl. Connor would come barreling in to assist and the brothers would light up the bastards together. After the ambush team had been taken down, they'd bust into the warehouse to take down whoever was left and free whatever girls had been fortunate enough to not have been sold off yet. Then they'd torch the place to destroy the evidence of them ever having been there and get the hell out of dodge before anyone noticed.

But Murphy had a saying. He called it Murphy McManus's law...it was, 'Anything that can go wrong with Connor's ridiculous plans will go wrong with Connor's ridiculous plans'. And, as always, Murphy owed Connor a big, fat, "I told you so."

It actually went like this:

Murphy and Connor entered the bar separately. Murphy tried to act like he'd been pre-gaming, so he wouldn't seem overly drunk after only one beer. Pickings were slim in this joint by way of girls; it seemed like most of them had gotten wind of the disappearances and decided to stay in for the night. Murphy had to settle for a girl who seemed a tad too demure for the bar-scene, but she was clearly pining about something and he exploited it, telling himself it was for the greater good. Connor entered later and took a seat in the corner of the bar, shooing away any who approached and trying to appear like he was brooding as he nursed his beer. He watched his brother work the girl over, loosen her up and finally get her to agree to come with him. He'd wait several minutes and then leave after them...but then he noticed a group of punks eyeing the two like meat when they stumbled out into the night as Murphy invited her back to his place. 

Immediately, the plan had to be altered. The punks that had been macking on the pair got up almost as soon as the door closed behind the Saint and the girl, and followed after them. Connor panicked. They could have just been some punks looking for a fight...or they could be scouters working for the traffickers. This wasn't factored into his plan. He pretended to take a call on his cell, guzzled down his beer and set money on the table before leaving in a rush. But by the time he got outside...the group was gone. Murphy was still helping the girl into his borrowed car, and other than the muffled music coming from inside the bar, their giggling and flirting was the only sound in the cool night air.

Connor pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, leaning against the nearest window and pretending that his brother didn't exist. The man still shot him a questioning glance, but Connor waved it off. The plan was still on. He made a point to not pay attention when the two drove off, and after taking a few more nervous drags, he shook the tension from his shoulders and flicked the cigarette butt to his feet, grinding it under a boot before getting into his own borrowed car and taking off down the road. Where Murphy had gone straight, Connor took a right a half-mile down from the bar and followed the curve left as it led to a road running parallel to the highway.

Connor was too full of adrenaline to feel nervous about these kinds of things anymore...but there was something about this operation that rubbed him the wrong way. He supposed it was because they were still getting used to working outside of Boston; being inside the city limits now was dangerous, because even though most cops were on their side, not everyone was, and even civvies would recognize them with their distinctive tattoos. The brothers had inadvertently become an Internet phenomenon with copycats getting as many of their tattoos as they could find out about (thankfully only close friends and anyone with access to their prison admission papers knew about the well-hidden ones). Regardless, it was enough to cause concern, and Smecker insisted they get out of the city. 

"Evil is everywhere", he had told them. "Don't tie yourselves down, boys...it's time to take your show on the road."

With that, he gave them some wads of unmarked bills and an impounded car, both acquired in a drugs-bust, and sent them on their way. Murphy was using that car, and Connor was currently driving a junker he stole from some small-time meth dealer. Naturally, they had stopped by their favorite weapons supplier before heading west out of the city. But it felt wrong to leave the city they loved so much...the one where they got their start as the Saints, so Murphy suggested they stay close. That's when they found this little highway town in the middle of nowhere New England, and started tracking the disappearances. At first, Connor thought Murphy was making something out of nothing in an attempt to feel like they were useful out of the big city, but it turned out he was right, so Connor concocted a plan.

Connor's plans never went like they were supposed to. And that was the thought in his mind as he screeched to a halt on the dirt road, a massive tree blocking his path with a forest-lined ditch on either side of the road. He got out of the car and flung a string of curses at the sky, knowing he couldn't go around; his little car couldn't possibly get through one of those deep trenches of grass without getting stuck. With a frustrated scream, he pulled his weapon duffle out of the trunk, strapped it to his shoulder across his back, and began jogging down the dirt path.

Murphy was a half-mile down the road from him, the woman in his passenger's seat giggling and worshipping his Irish accent. The road was dark; the only light came from the foggy headlights of the car and what little sliver of the moon was shining in the sky. He barely saw the marker for the road Connor was to meet him near...the dirty and rusted street-sign hardly reflected brightly enough to display OLD ROAD 95. 

Murphy was moving his foot from the gas to the brake when he felt a bump, a distinct pop, and suddenly the car was lurching to the left. He gripped the wheel tight, but knew better than to slam on the brakes as instinct was telling him to and allowed the vehicle to slow by itself. The steering wheel locked, however, and the vehicle fish-tailed, forcing Murphy to attempt to stop. The tires shrieked, the girl shrieked, and when the car finally stopped, they were sitting horizontal across the road, blocking both lanes.

"What the fuck was that?" Murphy shouted, turning to look out his window in the direction they'd just come from. With the headlights facing into the trees, it was nearly impossible to see anything, but Murphy swore he saw the glint of massive road-spikes slithering away as they were pulled off the road into the bushes. He doubted even his imagination could concoct a hallucination that convenient. "Son of a bitch!"

"What's going on?" The girl sobbed, practically hyperventilating as she grabbed for the door handle.

The Irishman grasped her shoulder, pushing her back against the seat. "No! Don't go out there...I think someone's toyin' with us."

"Wh-What?" She looked at him, horrified, but at least she wasn't screaming anymore, and she wasn't trying to get out of the car.

Murphy reached down into the pocket between his seat and the door, pulling out a suppressed Desert Eagle. He cocked it, his eyes locking on the girl's. "I need ye ta stay put. I'm gonna go check on the tires. Don't. Move. I'll keep ya safe, God as my witness, aye?"

The girl just nodded, her mouth hanging open, but no sound coming out. Murphy opened the door slowly and crept out of the car, going around to the trunk to retrieve a flashlight. He closed the trunk and switched on the light, shining it toward the tires. Definitely the work of road-spikes. He held the flashlight against the gun and swept down the road and into the bushes, but he saw nothing.

"Do you see anyone?" The girl asked as a trembling exhale, and Murphy glanced back half-heartedly with a grimace and a shake of his head before turning back to the road. A second later, he turned back to do a double-take, only then processing that he'd seen something strange through the window behind her.

"Get down!" He shouted, but it was too late. A palm came against the glass and it shattered effortlessly. The girl shrieked as she was pulled through the window, flailing and kicking as she went. Murphy stood, aiming his 50 cal over the hood of the car and shining the light on the figure in the darkness.

Oh, so he hadn't been imagining it.

Murphy could have sworn the face he saw smiling in the window was a woman with dark brown hair, bloodshot eyes and rows of what appeared to be shark teeth jutting out from under her lips. That was entirely the case as she snarled at him, her eyes wincing in the direct beam of the man's flashlight. She gripped the girl effortlessly around the waist with one arm, pinning her to her hip and seeming unaffected by her struggles.

He didn't think twice. He knew he was a damn good shot. As the woman's head dipped down to the crook of the girl's neck, Murphy emptied the entire clip into what was visible of whatever-it-was's chest. However, it didn't seem to faze the creature. As the gun began eliciting only clicks, the woman sunk her teeth into the girl's neck and inhaled her blood. The girl's eyes fluttered and she passed out, being held up only by the impossibly strong arm around her waist.

The woman, if he could even call it that, looked up at him and cocked her head, growling. A fraction of a second later, he felt like a brick wall hit him from the right, and he found himself being tackled to the ground. His gun clattered from his hand and he hit the pavement hard. Murphy reeled from the blow, bringing his arms up to block his face instinctively. When his eyes focused, he saw a man no older than himself with the same blood-red eyes and shark-like teeth snarling down at him. The figure above him dove down to snap at him, and he braced himself for the pain when suddenly, a loud gunshot rang out. The thing all but yelped and bounded off of him, going to stand next to the woman like an injured dog retreating to its master.

"You all right, brother?" Connor called from behind the trunk of their stolen car, worry evident in his tone as he cocked his shotgun. He was panting from his run, but was too high on adrenaline to notice.

"Fine!" Murphy responded breathlessly, grabbing for his gun before scrambling to his feet. He darted back to take cover behind the trunk next to his brother as a third figure became visible next to the woman.

"Two brothers on a hunt for vampires...you must be the Winchesters! We've heard all about you two...can't say you live up to the legend. Honestly, you should know better than to shoot us. And I thought you'd be taller." The dark-haired woman snarled cruelly, a smirk on her lips. She dropped the girl she’d drunk from like a used tissue, wiping her mouth on her hand.

"What did you jus' call us? We ain't no Winchesters, we're the McManus brothers. Get yer facts straight, bitch." Connor snapped.

"And what the fuck do ye mean vampires? You one o' them new-age gangs? Think you're all sparkly, blood-sucking douche-bags?" Murphy added belligerently.

"Lying won't save you, and honestly, it's a pathetic attempt." She bit back. "Imagine how respected I’ll be when I rip the Winchester boys limb from limb!"

"Actually...they really aren't the Winchesters." A voice came from the shadows, and you could practically hear the smirk in his cocky tone.

"We are!" A second voice added, and before a whistle cut through the air. Something glinted as it passed between the car and the group of leather-clad punks, and before any of them knew what happened, two arrows had embedded themselves into two of the vampire's chests. As they made to yank them out, two figures darted from the shadows, and the third vampire fell after the shimmer of a massive blade ran across his neck. His head fell separately from his body and hit the blacktop with a squelching thud.

"Arrows, really?" The woman growled, yanking out the offending bolt.

"Dipped in dead man's blood...you should be feeling pretty dizzy right about now." The first voice retorted.

"You little-" The insult hadn't left the vampire's lips before her eyes fluttered and she all but swooned, and the owner of the first voice dove forward to catch her. The arrow clattered from her grip to the ground. The final vampire lunged to attack, but found his feet giving out from under him. The second figure wasted no time in removing his head from his body, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve with a rough exhale.

"Huh, these guys weren't so tough." The shorter man said as he hoisted the woman from the ground. "Let's get her tied up...when she comes to, we can make her tell us where the nest is."

"We already found their base." Connor said, standing swiftly from where he was ducked behind the car. "Are ye sayin' they were vampires?"

"Yeah. What, you were out to kill them thinking they were just humans?" The second man asked judgmentally.

"Damn right! They're sex-slave traders! Takin' girls, pretty ones only, young...keepin' 'em in a warehouse before shippin' 'em out God knows where." Murphy retorted defensively.

"They aren't in the sex trade. They're vampires, and their leader must be picky about his food. Divas." The first man shook his head, shouldering his bow. "Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Sam. Who're you two chuckle-heads?"

"Connor McManus." The Irishman holstered his gun, motioning to his sibling. "And me brother, Murphy."

"Two brothers around our age, on a hunt...well, sort of...I could see how they mixed us up." Sam pursed his lips agreeably, nodding.

"Wait a second...McManus? As in the McManus twins? As in the Boston Saints?" Dean's eyes were alight in realization, and he smiled like a kid on Christmas. "You're the Boston Saints?"

"That’s what they call us." Murphy answered with a smirk.

"Who are the Boston Saints?" Sam asked, clearly at a loss.

Dean gestured wildly, looking shocked and somewhat speechless. "You of all people, Sam! The Boston Saints! They were all over the news a few years back for killing a big mucky-muck mobster in a courtroom full of people. They went into hiding for a while, but then a couple months ago, they came back when some douche started copying their m-o on good people. Weren't you guys locked up?"

"They let us out on good behavior." Connor replied sarcastically. 

Sam snorted. "Yeah, we get that."

"So what're ye boys vampire hunters?" Connor said the term with such a mocking tone that it made Murphy giggle.

"Vampires, werewolves, demons, ghouls...whatever's around and causing trouble." Dean replied matter-of-factly, sniffing and scratching his nose with a knuckle in an attempt to look aloof.

"That so?" Murphy responded interestedly, coming around to the other side of the car to stand by his brother. "And here we thought humans were the most evil sons o’ bitches on the planet."

"Yeah, if only." Dean scoffed, pulling the woman vampire up to her knees. "Well if you know where the base is, I guess we don't need her."

"May we?" Connor asked, motioning toward the woman with his chin.

Dean smirked, stepping back and allowing the vampire to slump forward on her knees, her jaw against her chest. He held his arms open. "Be my guest."

Connor looked to Murphy, and his brother returned the determined nod as they both approached the woman. Sam and Dean handed over their blades and stepped back to watch.

The McManus twins took a blade each and held it at the base of the woman's exposed neck, speaking in unison.

"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

They pulled back their blades and struck in tandem, sending the vampire's head flying from her shoulders.

Dean barely contained his squeal of delight as he looked at his brother with a gleeful smile upon hearing the infamous prayer. "Dude, we have got to get us one of those."

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with the SuperSaints fandom through Tumblr, and this is my contribution. The first of many, I hope! I may continue this, if people want me to.


End file.
